


birds of a feather

by griefiary



Series: failings of a father [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is an okay parent, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Fear, Gen, Jason Todd is Sparrow, Minor Injuries, dick grayson is talon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griefiary/pseuds/griefiary
Summary: I am so bad at summaries, please, just read this and write one for me. Please. I hate summaries so much.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: failings of a father [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892743
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	birds of a feather

**Author's Note:**

> The Robin mantle was discontinued after Dick was taken by the Court, hence why Jason has a different identity in this. 
> 
> Jason is thus still in his pre-death era. Hold your horses, we're still going to get to that.

The line disengages the moment Sparrow’s boots meet the rooftop, groaning under his weight. He whips his head over his shoulder, not daring to stop for breath, heart pounding out of his ribcage. He pushes himself up by his elbows, barely keeping the momentum in his gait as he makes a break for it. Stopping isn’t an option, not when the shadow of a silhouette ghosts alongside him, not when he can’t hear anyone after him; only the sounds of Gotham at night -- police sirens in the distance, heated arguments through the Narrows’ open windows -- flow through the air, muted by Sparrow’s heavy heaving and the knock of boots against cement. The silence is deliberate. The grapple gun hisses, burning hot in his hand, as he snaps his eyes forward to aim, calculating trajectory in a heartbeat.

It connects, his weight reeling towards -- Sparrow curls up, protecting his head, as he crashes through the window of a condemned building on Winick Street. He barely has time to turn, and see his line cut clean through, dagger embedded into the woodwork of the flooring and pinning his cape, before Talon elegantly carries himself through the window, the glass crunching under the weight of his heels. Sparrow rises in the same moment that Talon dislodges his dagger from the flooring, instinctually shifting his stance to favor his right. A dull ache in his left ankle starts to broil. _Twisted. No, sprained. As if I’m not already donezo,_ Sparrow thinks, eyes trained on the familiar-unfamiliar figure of the assassin. He’s never been so close before, mindful of Batman’s warnings. 

He tilts his head, almost a little too perfectly, as he eyes the sidekick up and down. But he makes no move, and Sparrow doesn’t either. Run, a voice that sounds uncomfortably like Alfred says, Run you stupid boy. His eyes flick to the hilt, as the sound of a snap echoes through the air. Talon has drawn his dagger back to its sheath, still no less threatening. Slowly, he pulls the cowl off of his head, and Sparrow steps back, wincing at the weight on his foot. His eyes drag between the lethal figure and his injury. Talon’s eyes follow, though they aren’t telling. 

Talon looks like --  
Talon looks like Dick. Like Robin.  
His lips part, throat dry, a silent gasp. 

Jason never met Dick, he’d met Robin once, long ago, in an alley in some sketchy part of Gotham Jason had once called home. Then he’d only seen Dick in newspaper articles, lamenting the boy’s disappearance, and even later, only in a photo hidden away in the drawer of Bruce’s desk. The vivid imagery of a locked room, right next to Jason’s own, suddenly clicks right into place.

He’d asked once. He knows better than to do that now.

But he looks different than that boy in the photographs. Skin no longer a healthy golden hue, now an unnatural pale-grey that makes Sparrow’s stomach twist in knots, and oh how his eyes shimmer, a ring of gold encircling ocean blue. Batman has told him what it is that runs through the assassin’s veins, Sparrow knows that silver has replaced the mortal crimson that once made his heart beat. His uniform is nothing like the bright and colorful costume that Robin had donned years prior. No, this is proper armor, despite its gold accents. This Dick is the spitting image of a true Talon, as molded by the Court of Owls. 

“Dick? Dick Grayson?” Sparrow still whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say, pretends he doesn’t hear the tremble in his voice that Dick - Talon - is sure to pick up on. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to ease the tension of this standstill. He clenches his fists and he raises them slowly, unsure. 

His almost-maybe brother only shuffles closer at that, still leaving distance between the two of them. Tension strikes him when suddenly, Talon thumbs at his domino mask, peeling it from him in one smooth motion. Sparrow goes to snatch at his wrist, to stop him, but falters. His eyes finally meet his, unmarred by the barrier of the whites in his mask. 

“ _Gray - Son?_ ” Talon echoes, blinking, before something almost (almost) like a chortle falls from his lips. It feels dangerously faux, it feels like an imitation, something he’d heard in passing, replicated. He starts to circle him then, Sparrow feels himself swallow, following his movements. The assassin must be satisfied with whatever he finds, because with a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder, he guides him to a ratty lounge chair in the corner of the room, away from the window and the glass. He pushes him to sit, and there’s nothing that Jason can do but be guided, dumbfounded by the events transpiring. 

The assassin kneels in front of him then, and swiftly reaches for the apprentice-vigilante’s utility belt. 

“Hey -- what are you --” He chokes, before _Dick? Talon?_ expertly reaches into one of its pouches, pulling out the medical bandage he’d been taught to keep there. He’d still remembered. Jason stays quiet as the other starts working on the clasps on his left boot, pulling it off with a consideration that he’d never imagined possible by someone so lethal. He whimpers, as Talon carefully feels around his ankle, humming some half-tune unfamiliar to Jason. The two of them stay in silence for several moments, Jason watching as his injury, already swelling, is being dressed by the assassin. 

Satisfied with his work, Talon leans back, reaching up to stuff the unused roll of bandage back into the pouch, other hand reaching into another one - pulling a device the size of a USB stick. Jason blinks at it, unsure of what to make of it, he’d never seen it before, certainly had never placed it there himself before readying for patrol. Talon clicks a button on it, a red light blinking to life, before slotting it back where it came from. He rises to his full height then, Talon cowl and domino mask in hand. He pulls his own over his head, leaning down to delicately stick Sparrow’s back onto his features. 

Without another word, Sparrow watches as the older turns his back to him, heading for the window. He turns, though, glancing down over to him. There’s a weight on his head then, as Talon -- _Talon_ ruffles his curls, almost fondly. Not quite natural, not quite right. Finally he puts distance between the two again, making back towards the window.

 _Crunch, crunch, crunch._ He pays no mind to the glass. Sparrow watches as Talon hops on the windowsill, perching. Talon tilts his head back at him, getting one last look, and Jason wishes he’d known Dick at all to know what he must be thinking -- remembering right now. He offers him a small wave, heart still beating wildly, and just as swiftly as he’d entered, he’s gone again. 

Sparrow slumps in his chair, the ache in his ankle not letting. He howls in pain, biting into his lip as he pulls his boot back up, fixing the clasps. 

He closes his eyes, gathering himself. 

The familiar roaring of the batmobile’s engine rings through the street below, a grapple connects to the ceiling through the broken window, and before he knows it, Batman is crowding over him, gently pulling him to his chest, carrying him. Of course. That device - a tracker. Jason didn’t even know he’d been planted with one. The button Dick had pressed, that must have been a distress beacon. 

He’s wide awake now. 

“Dick-” Jason rasps, wincing as Bruce’s arms hook under his knees, and he wraps his arm around the nape of his father’s neck, “-Dick is Talon.” Bruce is trying to shush him, tell him they’ll talk about it when they get home, when they get back to the cave. He makes for the door, not the window, carrying him down the hallway and stairwell. He doesn't even think to chase after the assassin.

Jason tears his mask off, hits Bruce in the chest. Once. Twice. He wants him to drop him, but his grip only tightens. 

“No! Why didn’t you -- you should have told me, Bruce! You knew!” His voice cracks as it raises, Jason hates how juvenile he sounds right now. He watches as Batman goes quiet, upper lip twitching ever so slightly. He can’t read him through the cowl. Anger blooms in his chest, caught in a crossfire between the grief for the loss of a brother he’d never had and fury at his father’s resignation. 

It’s resignation. 

Jason goes quiet, letting himself be placed in the passenger seat of the batmobile. Batman rounds the vehicle, seating himself next to him, before wordlessly speeding away. Neither of them dare to speak now. Jason rests his head against the cool window, shutting his eyes. _Does Barbara know? Did she hide this from him too?_ Idly, and maybe with bitter realization, he wonders if they’d just expected him to put two and two together for himself. 

It doesn’t matter anymore. 

He knows now.  
He’s going to fix this. 

And with that last thought, Jason slips into the realm between the living and the dead, nodding off by the time that the batmobile peels into Cresthill.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr under "griefiary"! 
> 
> Anyway I have no idea if i wanted to continue this or not, hence why I'm leaving it open for now. It works as a one shot just fine, but I am planning to make this part of a series.


End file.
